


The Way You (and I) Say, I Love You

by afreezingwinter (inthesummer)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-18 20:11:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14859485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inthesummer/pseuds/afreezingwinter
Summary: Love you, Kuroo.Bokuto mumbles, sleepily and a little too quietly,and the line goes dead quicker than Kuroocan think of anything to say, but the words echo in his headall night.-or: in which Bokuto takes him by surprise and Kuroo begins to wonder about a lot of things.





	The Way You (and I) Say, I Love You

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, I just took some prompts from the "The Way You Said I Love You" post and turned them into this sickeningly cheesy fluff. I have no excuse.

_ one _

 

Sometimes, Kuroo forgets.

 

He forgets that he and Bokuto are not, in fact, two halves of one being,

no matter the terrifyingly easy way they seem to click from the get go.

That Bokuto is still his very own person, with his own little quirks,

and Kuroo cannot expect to have known them all like the back of his hand

in the span of only a month and a half since they first met.

 

That Bokuto can take him by surprise, still.

 

Not because it’s Bokuto’s name flashing on his phone screen

as he lies there on his bed, relishing the sweet freedom of having seen

the last of a rather hellish finals week.

Not because Bokuto decides to forgo any kinds of proper greetings

when the line connects, and simply comes barreling down

with his words a million miles a minute,

never-ending and unstoppable.

 

And not even because Kuroo finds himself thinking that

it is somewhat endearing, cute even.

 

No, it’s the words Bokuto leaves him with,

when the phone call stretches to hours,

and it’s getting a little too late,

and Bokuto yawns into the phone more often

than he is capable of forming decipherable sentences.

Kuroo chuckles, is about to tell him to go get some sleep

before he starts snoring into the phone,

but his words die on his tongue, because.

 

 _Love you, Kuroo_.

 

Bokuto mumbles, sleepily and a little too quietly,

and the line goes dead quicker than Kuroo

can think of anything to say, but the words echo in his head

all night.

 

He wonders if perhaps he has fallen asleep

at some point during their long conversation and this is

but a fragment of his dream.

 

_ two _

 

Bokuto writes the same way he lives life;

bold, daring, and assured,

with such graceful ease and too much gusto that is

bordering careless,

but is always, always honest in its sincerity.

 

Each time Kuroo looks at his handwriting,

it is as if the words spring to life, out of the paper

and bouncing off the walls and floating in the air,

constantly moving, narrated by imaginary Bokuto’s voice

that he can hear clear as day.

 

_Hey, hey, hey!_

The bright yellow post-it Bokuto has stuck on the back

of his Chemistry notebook begins, and Kuroo grins,

thinks, rather fondly, that it’s _so Bokuto_.

 

He can easily picture it in his mind,

Bokuto hunching over his desk, tongue poking out from

the corner of his mouth, excitedly scribbling down

_you, my friend, have saved my miserable life with these notes_

(obviously exaggerated, but that’s Bokuto for you), and that

 _I owe you some free food, man_ ,

but hastily adding

_Just don’t push your luck and make me broke >:|_

He can easily see Bokuto saying those words and making that face

as if he’s right there, right in front of him and not

two train rides away. He chuckles.

 

_Love you!_

 

His laughter dies, his breath catches.

He stares, and stares – and the words remain.

 

They start slow, hesitant, almost like an afterthought,

but are then finished in one swift motion before doubt can slither in

and take those words back.

 

They are silent words written on paper with solid, black ink;

yet Kuroo hears them clearly, still quiet but

just a tad louder than the first time.

 

He wonders if he reads too much

into everything.

 

_ three _

 

If there is ever such a thing as perfect first-time drinking,

then this must be it, Kuroo muses; the beach is tranquil, surprisingly empty

at this time of the day, the sunset

a picture perfect painting of exuberant reds and yellows.

 

And then there is Bokuto, right next to him.

 

Perhaps this moment comes a little too early, perhaps they

should wait until they are of age and out of high school,

but they are young and foolish, believe they are invincible until

reality comes crashing down, kicking both their teams out of Interhigh

before they even get the chance to prove their worth.

 

 _Let’s drink our sorrow away_ , Bokuto says,

so even if Kuroo never believes in such notion, he knows

he won’t say no to this, because there are only few things he is capable

of denying Bokuto; fewer still when Bokuto is sad and

looks like the world is going to end.

 

The alcohol tastes awfully bitter and burns his tongue,

and after a few more sips he gives up pretending to like it,

lowers the cheap-looking bottle to the sand carelessly and

watches as the liquid spills and wets the fine grains.

 

 _Dude, that was just vile_ , he admits, pulling a face,

completely unbothered even as Bokuto laughs raucously and

takes a few more swigs from his own bottle, looking all smug

about holding his liquor better.

 

He feels oddly peaceful,

just sitting there before the vast, endless ocean,

with Bokuto’s endless cackles

that only seem to grow louder and louder.

 

 _Hey, Kuroo_.

 

_What?_

_Love you._

He hears the lapping of the waves, hopes its gentle sound is enough

to smother the thundering of his heartbeat.

_That’s it. You’re drunk._

_Am not!_

 

Bokuto pouts, followed by another bout of uncontrollable giggles

that surely invalidates his point. Kuroo snorts.

 

He wonders if he is justified in feeling this flustered by some words

Bokuto won’t even remember ever saying the next day.

 

_ four _

 

His ears are buzzing,

assaulted with a dizzying mix of sounds he cannot tell apart

from his own voice as he screams on top of his lungs

to overcome the other constant noises, telling Lev

not to jump too quickly.

 

Yaku is yelling something at him, the opponents are shouting,

most likely throwing taunts to get him riled up

(which is hilariously in vain since he still can’t hear a thing),

but he is as calm as the eye of a raging storm,

timing his jump just right to convert Kenma’s calculated toss

into a spike that will make Bokuto proud.

 

The crowd roars, probably alternately chanting his name

and his team’s, but still it’s all muffled, as if he’s submerged yet

trying to catch what’s being said above the water.

 

_Go go, Tetsurou! I love you!_

Kuroo isn’t sure if he is supposed to hear that, although

it’s impossible not to, the voice piercing through all the noise

like a silver bullet, fierce and unrelenting,

and it takes all his willpower not to whirl around and try

to find one too-familiar face in the stand.

 

Because that voice, that piercing voice

can be no one else’s but

Bokuto’s.

 

He wonders if he could still hear that voice even from halfway

across the globe – not that he’d ever be willing to put

that much distance between them in the first place.

 

_ five _

 

Kuroo wants to curse everything, really –

the overnight frost;

the icy patches on the roads;

Bokuto, that clumsy idiot,

for not watching where he was going

he ended up stumbling and twisting his ankle.

 

But mostly, he wants to curse himself,

for letting it happen and not being quick enough

to break the fall.

 

Bokuto is solid warmth on his back, and it’s getting harder

to pretend that the way he clings so tightly, almost desperately,

is simply out of fear that Kuroo will drop him, because they both know

plenty well he won’t, not even if his life’s on the line.

 

 _I love you_.

 

Those words are soft, perhaps the softest Kuroo has ever heard them,

breathed into the navy blue scarf wrapped around his neck, too gently

and too quickly he nearly misses them, with a painful edge to it

that has never been there before.

 

He wonders if, at that moment, Bokuto’s heart aches

as much as his does.

 

_ … _

 

( _And then,_

_as abruptly as they have started,_

_the words stop coming._

_Gone from every end of their long late-night phone calls;_

_dissolved from Bokuto’s bright yellow post-it notes;_

_vanished without a trace from his half-drunk giggles,_

_from his piercingly loud cheers and soft, warm breathes_

_against Kuroo’s scarf._

_They are nowhere to be found, and_

_Kuroo’s world falls dead silent and he goes astray,_

_adrift without those words to anchor him._

_He wants them back, oh how he wants them back,_

_but he doesn’t know how to ask for it,_

_not sure if he even has any right to,_

_not after all this time._

_He wants those words back, to be kept safe_

_where no one can ever take them away again._

_But he wonders if they are even his to keep_

_to begin with.)_

 

_ six _

 

 _I love you_.

 

Kuroo cannot tell who is more surprised when those words

escape his lips into the crisp mid-spring air,

gently riding the breeze across the short distance

between him and Bokuto, who is lying there at his side

on the fresh green grass.

 

Perhaps he will be able to, if only he opens his eyes,

and yet he keeps them closed, wanting to feel nothing

but the exhilarating thrill of finally – finally – letting it out

in the open.

 

It’s liberating, like he’s been set free out of the cage

he has trapped himself in, and his chest is warm with

indescribable happiness, laughter bubbling inside him,

threatening to spill from his lips, loud in the quiet morning.

 

Except no sound comes out,

because his lips are sealed with a kiss.

 

Bokuto is kissing him,

the same way he whispered the words Kuroo has missed so much

into the scarf around his neck that one last time –

warm and gentle, almost feather-light, as if Bokuto thinks

he deserves nothing less than the softest of touch.

 

_Tetsurou._

 

 _Now that is just unfair_ , Kuroo thinks, because

Bokuto is saying his name like a prayer and there is

only so much his heart can take.

 

So he opens his eyes, at last, and his breath catches

because all he sees is Bokuto,

and he is so heartbreakingly beautiful like this,

staring down at him with those bright, golden eyes.

 

 _That took forever_ , Bokuto chuckles, his grin teasing and

playful and Kuroo just has to laugh with him.

 

 _I love you_.

 

They are three simple little words, but Kuroo mean them

for everything else he cannot say;

it’s an apology, for being foolish and afraid and hurting him;

a thank you, for still being there;

a promise, that those words are as true to him as they are to Bokuto,

then and now and always.

 

 _I know_ , Bokuto smiles, kisses him again, _I know_.

 

Kuroo doesn’t doubt that he does, because he thinks he gets it now;

that even though there are still things they know not

of one another, things that can still take them by surprise

even years down the road, those are trivial;

that when it really matters and truly counts,

they understand each other like no one else does.

 

They always do.

 

Kuroo wonders if he and Bokuto are, in fact,

two halves of one being after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted some soft!Bokuroo, is all, so this is pretty much self-indulgent. I hope they don't come off as completely OOC here (pls pls let me know if they do!). Also, I'm trying out a new writing style, so any feedback is greatly appreciated ;w;
> 
> Thank you for reading this!


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